Hiccup of a Time
by Lightwavers
Summary: An AU fic with an incredibly OOC Hiccup who doesn't just train a dragon, he trains it with style. "Without warning, I was pounced on by nearly two tons of dragon. It felt horribly like a mugging, and even more so when the dragon ignored the giant fish on my chest in favour of nosing in my pockets." ...or maybe the dragon is training him. After all, who can really tell?


**This story contains footnotes! If you see a number in brackets[1] like so, then it references the footnote with that number at the end of the chapter. These footnotes are** _ **completely optional**_ **. They will never contain important plot that is not stated in the main text.**

* * *

 **I** **Don't Die Despite Determined Dragons**

Another dragon raid was in progress. Finally, I could use my new invention! Sure, it had caused a few… accidents[1], but that was all in the past. All it had now was a mild calibration issue, and I was confident I could fix it before the raid was over.

I examined the loose bolt, looking for any flaws that would cause it to spring out again. Carefully, oh so carefully, I wriggled it into place, then stepped back. Halfway done. The problem was that the things were so _tiny_. I was concentrating on finding a replacement bolt for the other side of the bola launcher, and soon arrayed a tiny row of them in front of me like a line of ants. I frowned thoughtfully, and eventually picked one from near the middle, steadily focusing on the machine instead of the ongoing rampage outside, because I am a genius and have the ability to just ignore trivial things like that.

"Really, Hiccup? I leave you for half a minute and you've completely abandoned the job," Gobber groaned as he entered the forge.

Ah, that's right. There was currently a line of Vikings waiting behind the counter for weapons.[2]

"If you left the door open, they could get their own weapons," I told him without looking up from my work. He knew what I'd do when left alone; exercise my genius for the good of the tribe, and myself. Well, mostly myself, but whatever I did usually benefited the tribe as a happy side effect, which was probably why I was left alone so often regardless of the disasters I was wont to cause. Anyway, Vikings needed to be self-sufficient or they'd never get anything done. I wasn't going to baby them no matter how Gobber worded it. Sure, "Stopping them from dying, Hiccup!" _sounded_ like a solid reason to hand them everything on a platter, but they needed to learn to stop _themselves_ from dying. Gobber just sighed, defeated by my flawless logic, and started handing out the still damaged weapons himself. Right, I was supposed to have reforged a good third of those last night. Oh well.

I popped the bolt in place and tested it with my thumb. It seemed strong enough, so I decided to forgo the screwing in favour of getting outside and using my invention.

"Got to go Gobber, dragons to catch and all that," I said over my shoulder, steering my prototype bola launcher towards the door.

People said I should actually test my inventions before using them, but that just took all the fun out of it. Well, alright, I understood where they were coming from, but I wasn't going to waste time testing in the usual fashion when there were live targets begging to be shot at.[3]

I flipped open the latch and staggered outside, carefully avoiding the fires and ignoring the poisonous looks those still waiting in line aimed at me.[4] Really, they needed to be more prepared. Who gets weapons in the middle of a dragon attack? Even if you aren't testing them, at least have them usable.

My machine careened around obstacles with a constant worrying tilt that suggested I would lose control horribly at any moment and run over someone too busy stupidly gaping at it to run, but I knew it'd be fine. My luck only ran out at the _worst_ possible moments.[5] I was panting by the time I neared the edge of the village. Just because I worked in a forge didn't mean I was in shape, since I didn't really _work_ in the forge.[6] The only people on to me were Astrid, who was way too nosy for her own good, my dad, and Gobber himself.

I kept charging forwards. The whole village was pretty much on fire by now, and someone who didn't know me would think I'd be unable to take a step without tripping over someone or other, but they'd be wrong. I had experience from countless other raids, and my natural genius. Or luck, depending on who you asked.

I saw Berk's forests before me and pushed forwards with an extra burst of speed only to find other youths my age trying to look cool by putting out fires in a line. It was a stupid, but looked like it was working, somehow, so it was probably Astrid's idea.

"Out of the way!" I shouted, and made as if to run into Snotlout, machine first. He jumped out of my way, having learned the hard way that it was wiser to just let me through.[7] As I passed, Ruffnut tried to hurl her bucket at me, but I expertly dodged and stuck my tongue out at her. She'd owe me a favour later for failing to prank me. I caught her giving me a grudging nod out of the corner of my eye and smirked to myself, still moving at horribly unsafe speeds.

Astrid turned towards the twins, but as usual tried her utmost to ignore my existence. "Ruffnut! We needed that water, this house is gonna explode any—"

The house next to the one they were dousing with water exploded to punctuate her sentence, and eradicate her eyebrows. A thick smoke billowed out of the wreckage, restricting my vision. I was used to unsafe circumstances, but not suicidal, so I skidded to a halt, machine barely heavy enough to resist tipping sideways. Then the house Astrid was talking about exploded, beautifully illustrating her point and sending her sprawling on the ground, hair thrown about her head like an angry puffer fish with the ends on fire.

Astrid was fun to tease, but there was a point where she went passed angry and started ripping off heads. No eyebrows and frizzy hair was definitely crossing that point, especially when said hair was also on fire. Girls were sensitive about their hair.[8] So I stopped myself from saying something I'd regret and ran off. I reached the bottom of the cliffs and hauled my machine up the switchbacks as fast as I could until I reached the top, where there was no torchlight to interfere with my aim. I wheeled my bola launcher onto a nice flat area and brought down the legs, then swivelled it back and forth and nodded in satisfaction, confident in my superb engineering abilities.

I scanned the gloomy half-light above the village, waiting for the screeching sound that signalled a Night Fury's selection of a target and gave them their name. I heard it soon enough—it was doing quite a number on the watchtowers—and wildly searched the sky before I spotted it diving towards the second to last tower. I aimed my bola launcher and pulled the trigger. A jolt travelled through me, and a wide net swung towards the Night Fury's location… and missed.

I _had_ practiced bola launching before, just not with this one. Fortunately I had, by virtue of my boundless intellect, set it up with the ability to rapid-fire bola nets. I reached underneath it and brought out tangled bundles of netting. After smoothing them out and placing them in their required positions on the launcher, I listened some more. Only one watchtower was left standing, and judging by the Viking shapes climbing down or just leaping to the ground, they suspected it was next. Actually, that was a good idea. I aimed my launcher in the space above the last tower. I saw the Night Fury's silhouette almost as soon as I heard the screech, then pressed and held the trigger, bracing the machine as it let out net after net.

The Night Fury's silhouette pulled up and dived towards the forest, desperately evading the volley. However, my displeasure with its acrobatics was mollified by seeing several other dragons become entangled in my nets and brought down into the village.

The Night Fury passed over my head, and I brought my launcher around to bear on it again, launching the last three nets before it ran out. Then a bolt abruptly sprang out and hit me on the head.[9] I rubbed the wound, glaring at the machine. A terrified roar cheered me up immediately. The bolt had distracted me from seeing exactly where the Night Fury had landed, but I was fairly certain it had crashed somewhere in the forest, based on the direction its roar had come from.

Then the realisation of what I'd done hit me. I'd brought down a Night Fury. A _Night Fury_. Hundreds of years of fighting dragons, and no one else had ever managed it. Of course, no one except me even knew what they looked like, judging by how the Night Fury page in the Dragon Manual was completely blank, so it might not be that great of an achievement. Really, all anyone had to do to get a look at it was stand outside the village during a raid, but no, everyone was too busy defending their homes to bother preserving their night vision. But even that thought couldn't squash my joy at having brought down the mighty beast. Except now I had no idea what to do with it. No one would believe me if I told them, having never brought down any dragons before this night. I could search for it in the forest, make sure it was alone, kill it, and then bring back its head. But that would be _expected_. Anyone else would do that exact thing, which meant I had to do something different. So killing it was out. And it had to benefit the village, or at least raise my reputation somehow, so that rules out letting it go. Was there a third option? Probably. I thought some more, but the only thing I could think of to do with dragons that would achieve my goals would be to get rid of the dragons. And dragons couldn't be used to get rid of dragons—that would be like fighting fire with fire. Insanity. But I was a genius—if there was a way to get rid of dragons with dragons, I would find it. Then I had it: I wouldn't _get rid_ of dragons. I'd make them work for me. No one else had thought to control the dragons, but no one else had brought down a Night Fury either, so it was bound to work.

At this, I actually rubbed my hands together with glee, before starting down the path that led to the village. It wouldn't do to vanish in the middle of a dragon attack, or someone might think I'd been stolen and replaced by a doppelgänger.[10]

"Did anybody see that?" I said, looking around. If anyone had, they'd arrange a search party and put an end to my scheme. Vikings were stupid, but they weren't _that_ stupid. The cliff was still deserted, and though it was overlooking the village, there was too much dragon slaying going on for anyone to notice me when I wasn't in their midst.[11] Still, Astrid was a sneaky one.

I was just about to breathe a nice long sigh of contentment and revel in the feeling of a job (well, hobby. Everyone knew I didn't do jobs.) well done when I heard something scrabbling against rock. I walked back and squinted over the edge. Surely no one would climb the cliff when they could just…

A Monstrous Nightmare slithered over the cliff and roared at me.

I dived to the ground. "At least it's just you," I said in short-lived relief, as it then proceeded to breathe fire at where my face had just been.[12] I stumble-ran towards the edge of the cliff, avoiding being flamed solely by the virtue of moving so randomly even I didn't know exactly where I'd go next. I reached the edge of the cliff almost intact, besides my eyebrows, and threw myself down the steep switchbacks, somehow without falling down and breaking my neck, simultaneously screaming obscenities and yelling for someone to save me.[13] Another roar from behind caused me to abandon Norse and just start screaming my head off—well, not literally, I wasn't about to make things easier for the dragon. I looked up to make sure I wasn't about to be eaten, and saw the village right in front of me. This time I ran straight for it, where I would have Viking meat-shields between me and any dragon.

I reached the plaza still screaming incoherently (in a manly way, of course), and spotted Dad in the middle of it, holding down a cluster of netted Nadders, probably about to cage them for the arena. He noticed me running like the maniac most Vikings think I am (they just don't appreciate genius), and abandoned his catch, but not without a firm "Do _not_ let them escape," to the small group of Vikings trying to help him. Unfortunately, dad was the linchpin on which this group took orders. Without him, you could count on them doing anything _but_ keeping the dragons contained, unless another group leader spotted them and took over first.

A blast of fire from the Monstrous Nightmare scattered the Vikings, freeing the Deadly Nadders, and another blast set freshly doused buildings alight once more. I hid behind the post holding up one of the large braziers that hadn't been toppled by a Gronckle. The Monstrous Nightmare flamed it as a matter of course. I closed my eyes as the flames split around the brazier and opened them to find myself being leered at like a small rabbit caught outside its hole. Options. I had options. Leap behind one of the Vikings stumbling about like sheep; with their furs and bulk they probably wouldn't be completely roasted, like I would be. I could also dodge behind another building or piece of rubble, but a Viking was closer. Besides, over half the village was on my revenge list, so there was a good chance whoever I hid behind deserved at least a light frying.

I tensed as the Nightmare crouched, ready to leap, and then dad arrived, tackling the Monstrous Nightmare. Well, looked like I was safe. I slumped against the pole (which, thankfully, was fireproof), already plotting a search pattern through the forest to find the Night Fury. Meanwhile, dad punched the Monstrous Nightmare in the face repeatedly until it flew above him and tried to set him on fire. It coughed up a small amount of sparks, which dribbled down its jaws like luminous spittle.

"You're all out," dad said, grinning.[14] He proceeded to jump up and grab its tail, then use it to fling the dragon around, bashing it into walls and the ground until it gave a helpless squawk and dragged itself into the sky, dad still clinging to it. Dad dropped when it reached the height of the rooftops and rolled. The Monstrous Nightmare flew away and didn't look back.

Stoick the Vast's reputation was well deserved. It had to be; he was the chief, after all.

The remaining dragons seemed to take the Monstrous Nightmare's flight as a signal and flew off all at once, including the Deadly Nadders that were not allowed to escape, clutching sheep, oxen, and the occasional screaming Viking in their claws. The brazier I was hiding behind suddenly gave a muffled groan and toppled over, crashing through walkways and Vikings still below. Clearly a bad design decision.

Dad started grinding his teeth—never a good sign. "Every time you step outside, disaster follows. Can't you see that I have bigger problems? Winter's almost here and I have entire village to feed!"

Was he seriously blaming this raid on me? I'd actually helped this time by shooting down some of the attacking dragons. Granted, it was an accident, but I wasn't going to _admit_ it.

"Between you and me, the village could do with a little less feeding..." I muttered. Then, before he could interrupt with what he probably thought was a scathing retort (it never was), "But I helped! My bola launcher shot down at least six dragons." I decided some exaggeration was fine, as it would keep everyone off my back for some time, and no one could disprove it.

Dad's face turned an interesting shade of purple. "Stop! Just… stop," he said, disappointed scowl on his face. "You are many things, Hiccup, but a dragon killer isn't one of them. Get back to the house."

Ah. So that's how he got me; if no one could disprove it, no one could _prove_ it either. Well, he was chief, and my dad, so at least some of my intelligence must have come from him. I put a convincing (I'd spent a lot of time practising) scowl on my face to match his and stalked in the direction of our house, which was thankfully still standing after the raid. Sometimes it wasn't, and rebuilding a house, or tricking the twins into doing it, was hard work.

I collapsed onto my bed when I entered my room. Fine, they didn't have to see it my way, but just wait until I figured out how to train the dragons. With that happy thought, and a resolution to start my search for the Night Fury as soon as I could, I fell asleep.

Then I climbed out of my sleeping body and stood on top of it. I jumped to the floor, carefully avoiding looking at the bed. I walked over to the door, and mimed groaning in exasperation, since I couldn't actually make any noises when I was dreaming. My door was open, but only a crack. I could probably fit a pinkie finger through it, but my whole body was completely out of the question. I half-heartedly tugged at the doorknob, knowing it was useless. I usually left my door wedged open with a rock, but my improvised door stopper must have finally wiggled loose.

I braced myself, made another fake-sigh, and then turned to face the rest of the room. Still avoiding looking at the bed, I first silently padded over to the windows. Closed. I looked up, but the ceiling lacked a convenient hole. An investigation of the walls revealed nothing. There was nothing I could do to get out of my room. I pounded a hand against the door in frustration, which didn't even make a sound.

Despite myself, my eyes were drawn to the sleeping me. I continued to successfully look at other things for a time; a spider innocently spinning its web in the corner, the dark and empty pathway outside my windows, the skittering passage of a stray cockroach, but eventually I got bored.

My eyes strayed to the bed more and more often, until I just gave up. My skin crawled as I looked at it. As always, looking at my sleeping self completely creeped me out. I was sprawled on my bed in a completely undignified fashion, but thankfully not snoring. I looked at the feet, where small green lights shone from beneath the sleeping me's skin, circulating lazily throughout my body. I traced one of the circular shapes with my eyes as it drifted around, then looped upwards and rested in my chest, where it glowed even brighter in intensity. I followed another one, and then realised too late that it led to my head. I had to watch my gaping mouth, dripping a thin stream of what was definitely _not_ drool, the twitching eyelids, the nose that was far too bulbous for my liking, the cluster of blue lights that rested only in my head, entangled with a few purple ones…

I turned away from the sight and resolved to not look at me again. It almost worked, and I only looked at it twice more before I could interest myself by following the glow of the morning sun as it crept into my room. Then I woke up.

I gazed about my room. Little motes of dust danced hazily in the sunlight streaming through the windows, nothing had caught on fire, and I could even hear birds chirping. I shook my fist at the gods. I'd stood bored out of my skull for hours on end. The least they could do was bring down a thunderstorm. I left my room and scanned the hallway for the rock, quickly found it against the wall, and wedged it under the door. Then I remembered the Night Fury, and my irritation was replaced with excitement. I ran downstairs, but found my dad jabbing at a fireplace with a poker. This called for stealth. I slowly crept towards the front door.

"I need to speak with you son," he said suddenly, causing me to jump.

"Er… yes?" I said, hand on the doorknob.

"It was a hard decision," he said, still not looking up from the fire, "but it had to be done. You're not getting anywhere like this."

Oh. I'd wondered when he'd try to spring this on me again. Every so often I woke up to be told I was going into dragon training, to which I was _very_ unenthusiastic. So far, I'd always wiggled out of it, so I wasn't too worried

"You'll start this afternoon. Dragon training, with the others," he continued, then raised himself from the fireplace, revealing a large axe strapped to his belt, which he then took into his arms. I eyed it warily.

"You'll need this," dad said, thrusting the axe at me. I could barely hold the thing; what did he think I was going to do, eat it?

"I don't want to fight dragons," I complained.[15] Fighting dragons was _work_ , and I _hated_ work. Much easier to learn the secret of controlling dragons instead. That way they'd do all the work for me.

"Come on, yes you do," dad said, using his earnest face.

"Rephrase. Dad, I _can't_ kill dragons," I said. I mean, come on, I couldn't even _lift_ an axe. How was I supposed to kill a dragon the traditional Viking way without using a traditional Viking weapon?[16]

"It's time, Hiccup," dad declared. Ugh. He'd said the words. Once he said that it was time, his word was law, and the gods help anything that disobeys. Anything. Even lightning couldn't strike a tree twice if Stoick the Vast forbade it. There was a tree somewhere that proved it…

"Can you not hear me?" I pleaded. I _really_ couldn't wield the axe. It was an excuse, sure, but it was a _valid_ excuse.

"This is _serious_ , son!" my dad said, and forced the axe into my unwilling hands. Now I had to hold it or let it fall, and then he'd be _really_ mad. Plus I'd have to leap backwards to keep it from severing my toes. So I held it. The weight dragged at me, and I had to hunch down to steady myself. I looked up to see that my dad had assumed his stern pose, his eyes wide, brows furrowed, and chest heaving. Lecture, lecture, stay away, come again another day… or never, that'd be great.

"When you carry this axe, you carry all of us with you," he said, over my silent _No, no, no no no nonono…_ "You walk like us, you talk like us, you _think_ like us," he thumped himself on his helmet, "No more of… this."

"You just gestured to all of me," I said, annoyed. My dad was one of the Vikings on my revenge list, mostly because of his "this" gesture.

"Deal?" he said. It was settled.

"This is a very one-sided conversation..." I muttered.

"Deal?!" dad repeated, almost shouting.

"Deal," I grumbled. Not that I planned on keeping it or anything, but now I'd have to go to training every so often to keep up appearances, which would take up way too much time.

Then he left, saying something about probably being back, which meant he was going on another search for the dragon's nest. Again. At least he wouldn't be here to make sure I attended dragon training. Everyone's lives seemed to revolve around it, so I knew where it was—namely, noon. So I had a good few hours. I went back to my room and steadied the axe in the corner with the spider. I hoped it would spin a web about the axe. It would be very symbolic. Then I sat down at the desk that may or may not have been stolen from Astrid and tried organising the pile of papers. I eventually gave it up as a lost cause and just went through my maps, trying to put my search pattern to paper.

I looked out of my window to check the time, then jumped out of my desk, scattering papers everywhere. I gathered them with a curse. It was twilight already, so dragon training had ended at least an hour ago. That left actually searching for the dragon. I took another look at the sky, assuring myself that there was light enough to embark on a search, then leapt downstairs and stepped out of the house, only to be ambushed by Gobber.

"Eh, lad, I was under the impression you were in for dragon training, no?" he said.

"Uhm. I… forgot?" I said. "But I'll definitely be there tomorrow," I added hastily. I hadn't expected that dad would tell Gobber I'd be in for training. It wouldn't do to have him complaining to Dad about me not going to training when he got back.

"Hm. Don't forget. Oh, and you're dismissed from forge duties, effective… immediately. We've gotta let you have some time to practice," Gobber said with a wide grin. He could be quite devious when he wanted to. Restricting my access to the forge was the worst punishment he could give me for not coming to training. Anything else and I could get things to nibble a way out for me.

I grumbled a short "Fine," and waited until he wondered off again, then, making sure the coast was clear, ran off towards the forest. I tried to remember the search pattern I'd planned out in my head last night, before I'd put quill to paper and confused it with all the other search patterns I'd drawn at some point, and then lost somewhere on the floor of my room. I hadn't forgotten, of course, but it _was_ a little fuzzy. On second thought, it was probably a bad pattern anyway, so I strolled around the forest hoping to chance upon the Night Fury. Eventually I gave up on affecting a calm demeanour and started voicing a few choice ideas of what I'd do to the Night Fury if it was deliberately hiding from me. That and screaming.

The moon was just high enough to see by when I found the first shattered tree. I stopped in the middle of my newly devised threat and followed the line of broken and crushed trees on tip-toe, quiet as a mouse.

And then the moon hid itself behind an inconveniently large cloud, casting everything into darkness. Consequently, the first I saw of the Night Fury was a section of its scales after I tripped over it. It really blended into the night, especially when it wasn't moving with the speed of a lightning bolt. I scrambled frantically against the Night Fury, arms strategically flailing. I retreated until I couldn't feel its scales then brought my knife out in case the Night Fury decided to whip its tail around and disarm me.

I could see it only as a black lump laying limply on the ground. I edged closer. Still no movement.

I felt a sudden flash of concern—bolas weren't exactly the safest way to catch something—and carefully placed a hand on its scales…

They were quite warm, and the Night Fury's sides were slowly expanding and contracting, as if it were… no, it couldn't be. I edged around until I found something soft, probably its snout. A puff of air startled me, and I decided to tactically retreat to a safe distance.

I was sure now. The Night Fury was sleeping. _S_ _leeping_. It was in the middle of the forest, tangled up in bolas, probably with wolves roaming about, and it chose to take a _nap_.[17]

I waited until the moon decided to be reasonable and get out of the cover of that stupid cloud. Waited in the dark, with a Night Fury who might at any moment wake up and start biting. At first I spent the time biting my nails, but that lead me to thinking of what the Night Fury might do, so I looked up at the sky, deliberately not looking at where the dragon lay, the dragon that could at any moment be creeping up on me, ready to strike… and then the cloud finally decided to move on.

I quickly looked back at the Night Fury in case it had decided to spring up in an attack position while I was looking away, but it was still where I'd first found it, curled up, bound in ropes (which was _very_ reassuring), and fast asleep.

I observed it for a moment. It was pretty plain, for a dragon. Basic four-legged shape, tail, broad head with frills on it, tiny black scales that looked like unbroken hide from a distance. A set of wings that I vividly remembered as being longer than its entire body, now scrunched up against its back, tangled awkwardly with the ropes. One of them was bent the wrong way, probably broken. So the bolas had done some damage, but thankfully nothing that time and a well-placed splint couldn't heal. I approached it again and gently nudged its side with my boot.

It didn't move.

I nudged it harder.

No response. I put all my weight into it, and _shoved_.

It rolled over, and started to snore. The sun had set only an hour ago. If it had a normal sleep schedule, it'd still be awake. If it was nocturnal, it'd be waking up. So it _should_ have been awake.

So I did the sensible thing, and climbed on top of its back and started jumping. Aside from giving a contented rumble it didn't even seem to notice, so I stopped.

Okay, jumping wasn't working. I eyed the Night Fury's broken wing, but didn't risk messing with it; I wanted to wake it up, not send it into a rage and give it an excuse to eat me. It would, too. I understood excuses very well.

Instead, I knelt down near one of its long ears and shouted in it. Nothing happened. I stalked away in disgust, then turned around and faced it. "Seriously? Wake up already, you useless reptile!" I kicked its side again for good measure.

Still nothing.

Not that I was an expert on dragons (that'd be Gothi, the old bat), but I'd thought all dragons were supposed to have sensitive hearing. Apparently not. I sighed and sat down on a rock, then brought out my notebook, turning my back to the dragon. The moonlight was dim, but I could still see the pages well enough to attempt a sketch. But right when I was reaching for a charcoal stick the Night Fury woke up and started snarling at me. I leapt off my rock and snarled right back at it to establish dominance. It roared. I roared back. It snorted, turned its head away, wriggled a bit, and went back to sleep.

I considered climbing onto its back again and just lying down, but then I might actually fall asleep too, and then I'd miss dragon training again.[18] Not that I wanted to go, but I'd already told Gobber I'd be there, and no one lied to Gobber. Well, no one alive, anyway.

Then I had an absolutely brilliant idea: I'd waft a fish in front of the dragon's nose. Dragons like fish, right? I'd read the Dragon Manual, but all it had was stuff on how to kill dragons, which was hardly useful when you were trying to control them. So I decided to start with fish. Dragons stole it all the time, so the Night Fury was bound to like it, and no one would question a few more missing fish.

§

The next day, after my first round of dragon training (don't ask), I brought back a tuna fish taller than I was. The guards on the storage sheds had wanted to know what I was doing with it, but I told them it was a secret order from my dad before he left, in a really solemn sort of way, and they let me take it, though not without some dubious looks and head scratching.

"This thing is smelly enough to wake the dead. If it doesn't wake _you_ , then everyone's right and dragons _are_ demons, because only a demon could sleep through this horrid stench," I told the Night Fury, still lugging the huge tuna behind me.

The Night Fury rolled over in its sleep, but I thought I saw a sliver of tongue poking out from between its jaws.

"That's right, _no one_ can resist this… thing," I said, and waved the tuna in front of the dragon's nostrils, which was quite a feat, as I had to stand on the tip of my toes and kind of heave it to and fro to get a proper wave. My efforts were rewarded when the dragon gave a long, deep sniff. It was trying to be subtle—the nose hardly moved—but I knew a sniff when I saw one, and the dragon was just not on Snotlout's level when it came to hiding sniffs.[19]

I slowly moved the tuna closer to the Night Fury's mouth. closer, closer… then it was gone. I blinked. The Night Fury had snapped up the tuna without me even noticing. _That_ was style. The dragon slowly licked its mouth, which had a definite smug tilt to it.

"Oh come on, that wasn't even fair," I said. I was beginning to suspect it wasn't actually asleep. Unless dragons had a habit of sleep eating, which would be another thing to add to the Dragon Manual.[20]

I decided to test the theory, and told it, "If you open your eyes, I'll get you another fish."

I didn't expect it to understand me, much like I didn't expect the sheep to understand me when I talked to them; it was mostly the tone that mattered. Wheedling, and with a hint of a promise. But the Night Fury immediately opened both its eyes and stared at me with large, green orbs, flecked with black. They were strangely hypnotizing. I imagined I could hear its voice inside my head. _You promised. Now gimmie fish._ I wasn't usually one for keeping promises I didn't have to, but something about those eyes…

"Fine," I groused.

§

A couple of days of dealing with the infernal creature caused me to realise some very specific facts. The Night Fury would do almost anything for food, except promise to behave if I removed the net. If asked, it would still just quietly growl at me until I changed the subject. I even set its wing, and still the dragon refused to cooperate. It was this that convinced me that it understood Norse. How? No idea, but I intended to find out.

I started by asking Gobber. "So, I noticed the dragon manual doesn't have much on Night Furies, is there like a Night Fury pamphlet, or a sequel, or—"

A fireball whooshed past me.

...but maybe it could wait until dragon training was over. If Gobber had taken my suggestion of having a doctor at the arena, I might have let a fireball graze me just to get out of training.[21]

I sidled towards Snotlout and Astrid. Usually this would be a bad idea, but I really needed the meat shields.

"So anyway, I'm moving into my parents' basement. You should come by sometime to work out. You look like you work out—" Snotlout was pestering Astrid again. Good, they were distracted. I sidled a little closer, subtly gesturing at them with my shield. Hopefully the Gonckle would get the hint.

I sneaked a look at them, waiting for Snotlout to make the fatal mistake. It wasn't long before my attention was rewarded. Snotlout's nostrils widened fractionally and Astrid, who had been merely ignoring him before, did a little dance in place to attract the Gronckle's attention and then cartwheeled out of the way of its shot, which blasted Snotlout to the ground. Luckily for him, the fireball had impacted on his shield

I made a mental note to be less subtle when trying to attract the Gronckle's attention, then saw Snotlout and let out an involuntary chuckle. Smoke was rising from his clothes even though the fireball hadn't hit him directly, and his skin was the colour of boiled lobster. This made it into the top ten of what Astrid had done to Snotlout for sniffing at her, hands down. Unfortunately, Snotlout heard. Brushing himself off, he angrily stalked towards me. I grabbed a small dart from my belt and held it in my fist, the point too small to be noticeable from a distance.

"Snotlout, you're out!" Gobber shouted from his safe spot in the stands.

Snotlout ignored Gobber and continued towards me. Meanwhile, the Gronckle was charging up a shot that I decided not call attention to. Gobber hadn't spotted it yet, Fishlegs and the twins were out, and Astrid was busy trying to circle around the Gronckle and sneak up on it from behind.

The shot rebounded off Snotlout's helmet, sending him spinning. He then collapsed senselessly to the ground. He'd probably been hit hard enough that he'd remember none of this later. Or maybe he'd forget it naturally, like he does most of what he learns.

The Gronckle buzzed towards me, which made me a bit nervous, since my darts were useless against dragons, but by then Astrid was in place to jump it, which she did with great enthusiasm. A couple of nose bashes with the flat of her axe and it was whimpering and scratching at the great iron door to its cage. Astrid helpfully pulled the lever to open it, and then closed it immediately once the Gronckle was inside.

Well, that was fun. And also something that would never work if anyone other than Astrid tried it. While I might have the luck of Loki, Astrid has the luck of Freya.

§

"What if I feed you whenever you feel hungry?" I tried.

The Night Fury snorted derisively, which meant _absolutely not._ [22]

"Fine. I'm just going to take the net off, and then you'll owe me whatever I decide," I said, took the net in my hands, and started to take it off—but the dragon pulled back and snapped at my hands, which I hurriedly snatched out of reach. This was impossible. I glared at the dragon for being so uncooperative. It glared back at me and gave a cursory snap.

"Alright! I'll let you out… but you have to listen to what I say. Not do it, just listen, and actually consider it. Deal?" I said. It was my last option, really. I'd spent far too much time and fish with the Night Fury to kill it (the glory wouldn't even be worth the time spent training it anymore), which left convincing it to join me. If it meant giving it an illusion of being equal, I'd do it without hesitation. I gave lots of things the illusion of being equal. The twins came to mind…

The Night Fury snorted dismissively at me, but I could tell it was tempted. Being tangled up for days couldn't be comfortable, even with scales.

"Deal?!" I raised my voice, trying to go for the agree-you-have-no-choice tone my dad used. It appeared to be working; the Night Fury didn't immediately snort or outright growl at me. Then, after a minute of thought, it _nodded._

"Yes!" I shouted, punching the air, then quickly resumed my 'I'm in control' pose. "Alright, I'm going to let you out now."

I startled untangling the ropes. Already knotted, the Night Fury had drawn them tighter and tangled them even more by rolling around.

"This would've been so much easier if you'd let me keep my knife," I said, frustated.

The Night Fury growled and unsheathed its teeth suggestively. "Of course, bring the rope to your teeth. Still, a knife would be way easier, you know." A growl told me that I'd misunderstood something. I wondered what it was, shrugged, forgot about it, and undid a large knot, then brought the newly released length of rope up to the dragon's jaws, then settled the rope into the best position for the Night Fury to bite. I would have brought a knife regardless of how it felt, but whenever I did the dragon would pretend to be asleep and wouldn't respond unless I tried to untie it, in which case it tried to eat me, so using its teeth was easier. And safer.

Hours blurred by as I slowly untied rope and brought it to the dragon's teeth. Twilight passed and night fell, but I had patience borne of long hours of being trapped while waiting for myself to wake up. Teeth sawed at the endless rope, and then the net suddenly fell away all at once. "Finally!" I said. Then I realized I'd just freed a Night Fury, and could only ask it not to eat me, with no guarantee it would obey. In hindsight, I wished I'd thought it through more, but I'd been really impatient...

The Night Fury didn't even wait for me to perform the ritual begging, just sprang on top of me and opened its jaws... and roared in my face at a volume so loud that I thought my eardrums must have burst. So it was to be slow torture before death. I could appreciate that, though not when I was the one being tortured. After a roar drawn out so long I felt it must be dawn by the time it ended, it leapt off me, and... flapped away. It didn't get very high, what with the splinted wing and all, but it could still run at an impressive speed. I breathed a sigh of relief. That could have gone a _lot_ worse. Still, the dragon didn't seem to like me, which meant I'd need more time to find and train it, which meant I needed to get out of dragon training tomorrow. I knew where to get a foolproof alibi, but it would cost…

§

I reluctantly approached the Thorston hideout. The twins had made it as inconvenient to access as possible, which was a part of why I was so averse to visiting. Only a part, mind you. Of course, they had a hidden strategy behind their apparent stupidity. If not for the twisted and tangled knots of criss-crossing vines, thorns, and giant wasp nests, someone like Astrid would have barged in and confiscated everything stupid… scratch that, she would have confiscated everything.

"Terrors may not desecrate the master," I solemnly intoned, cutting off loud and nonsensical chatter from inside. I'd checked their house first—discreetly, of course. Their mother was a right terror to 'snoopers'—and, since nothing was on fire, concluded that they must be at their hideout.

"The well is for drinking, not cruel and unusual captivity," Ruffnut said.

Someone must have been tossed into the well again. Shame I'd missed it. Also shame that I'd forgotten what came next.[23]

"Uh… let me in?" I tried.

"Well?" Ruffnut called, voice slightly muffled through the living 'door'.

"I need a favour," I said.

"You didn't answer the question! Therefore, we shall only open the doorway of doom halfway!" Tuffnut said, sounding drunk. I groaned. It was impossible to deal with a drunk Tuffnut. At least a drunk Ruffnut would be… well, if not sane, or sensible, at least able to understand Norse.

"Right you are, dear brother," Ruffnut said, and hiccuped. I heard the distinct sound of a mug of something being chugged. Great. Maybe it would be best to train the dragon another day… the legendary Night Fury, the dragon no Viking had seen in _ever…_ yeah, no, I wasn't putting off training that creature for anything.

The curtain of thorny vines moved somewhat to the sides, leaving a small gap in the middle. Fortunately, my genius kept me amply prepared for situations like this. I looked around until I found two rather large sticks, then placed them in the middle of the tangle and forced them apart with all my strength, which was a quality I was admittedly lacking in, at least for now. I was still able to widen the gap enough to allow my extremely compact (not small, _compact_ ) frame through, and gazed on a scene of utter destruction. The cave was filled to the brim with nicked knick-knacks. There were piles of lanterns, collections of rocks that the twins thought would be somehow useful in their pranks, catapult parts, actual catapults, a live sheep, an actual table stolen from the great hall, a barrel in a corner, and, most prominently, several dozen mugs of who knows what. Probably not ale.

"I need you to cover for me tomorrow. I'll owe you…" I paused, calculating, "two and a half favours."

The twins perked up, suddenly becoming sober, no matter that they'd drunk enough together to mildly inebriate Stoick himself. Tuffnut narrowed his eyes suspiciously—or at least, one of them. The other was puffed up and unable to be closed, courtesy of him having to open up their hideout without an external opening mechanism. No matter how many injuries they got, they never learned.

"Two… two and a _half_ , is all?" Tuffnut said suspiciously.

I sighed. "I'll also embellish the kalidors."

"Now, how do we know that kalidors even exist? And what's embellishing even mean, anyway?" Ruffnut interrupted. I sighed again. I did that a lot around the twins.

"You told me that the kalidors are Loki's secret spies, and embellishing them makes them happy… Somehow," I added.

"Sounds arright," Tuffnut slurred agreeably, "but we won't go for… for uh… aiding and abetting, that's right, we won't do that, not unless you give us…" he squinted owlishly up at me from where he had slumped down against the rocky cave wall, sinking lower every second, "seven favours."

"Seven? _Seven_?" I cried in feigned outrage. None of us knew what favours were worth anyway, though the point was hotly debated whenever we weren't trading them. Still, I had to act like they were worth a lot or they caught on. "Three. At the _most_ ," I declared.

"At the _most_ , eh?" Ruffnut said. "Then I guess you can do… whatever it is yourself."

" _Fine_ ," I huffed, "four. And I'll throw in an extra half if you don't ask questions."

"Hmm," Ruffnut downed what I'd _thought_ was an empty mug. I glimpsed something large scrabbling against her throat when she swallowed, but decided not to bother her over it. She'd feel it soon enough and vomit it up just to mess with someone. I shuddered at that thought. People call me insane, but I'm the very opposite of insane, which is why I'm the best at anything I want to do. The twins though, they're the genuine article. Completely lacking in any sanity whatsoever, and if they ever found any it would move to a safer climate at the earliest opportunity.

"Agreeeeed," she slurred at last. "But you need to find some way to get Astrid's axe to dangle from a tree branch _just_ out of her reach."

"You know she'll just throw…" I trailed off after realising it didn't matter. I'd just _say_ she'd thrown something to knock her axe off the tree. "Agreed. So you'll cover for me in the arena tomorrow?"

"Yessir, we're your… uh, we'll do it."

The twins didn't exactly fill me with confidence, but they'd get the job done. Or at least, I tried to convince myself they would on the way home. Thankfully dad was off fruitlessly searching for the dragon's nest again, so I wouldn't be caught coming home this late.[24] He wouldn't do anything others would consider a punishment, but he got this big, disappointed scowl, and then he'd sit me down and talk about responsibility, and Vikingness, and how what he was saying was important, and would I "sit still and _pay attention?_ " which was more than punishment enough.

§

After a night of eavesdropping on Vikings, I woke up early and sneaked off into the forest, determined to find where the dragon had gone.[25] I'd expected it to take forever to find, perhaps longer than the first time, and was therefore pleasantly surprised to find it quite close to the location where I had survived its time-defying roar; in a large gorge. It didn't look at all happy with its new location, dashing itself into the walls and roaring loudly, but not loudly enough to be heard from the village. I wondered if it had been doing this all night.

"Should've listened to my earlier offer," I shouted down at it. It beat one wing in the air and reared up, narrowing its eyes at me. "You'd've been all safe and stuff. Whatever, you wouldn't have been down there is what I'm saying," I yelled, faintly annoyed that it couldn't just read my mind. I suppose I couldn't be _completely_ special. Everyone had to have parts of themselves that were decidedly _unspecial_ , or we'd be bored. That's why gods played games with mortals, or something. I didn't really pay attention to the myths much. Really, if something was that important it would just be absorbed through my skin, and then I'd just _know_ it, like how everyone knows how to speak Norse, or how all dragons speak dragonese. At least, I think they speak dragonese. What else would they speak? I haven't met a dragon that speaks Norse… but then again, most of the dragons I'd met had been trying to kill and eat me, which doesn't really foster casual conversation.

"Can Night Furies speak Norse?" I shouted.

The Night Fury gave me a deeply resentful look and stalked up to a tree, leapt up, and flipped upside down, its tail catching on a branch. The result was rather reminiscent of a bat sleeping while clinging to the roof of a cave. Figures. I find the dragon and it resorts to its favourite tactic; going to sleep when I'm trying to talk to it.

"Fine! But if— _if_ mind you, _if_ I bring food again, I expect not to be eaten!" I said. The dragon twitched but otherwise didn't move. I stomped away, irritated. Now I needed to feed the thing again.

§

The storehouse guards didn't pay me any mind this time, only asked me for news on my way in (I ignored them) and impatiently prodded me on my way out. Touchy. When I reached the dragon it was still hiding from the brilliant glare of the noonday sun. Sadly, the tree the Night Fury was huddling up against didn't come even close to concealing it.

"Hey! Food!" I shouted.

The dragon perked up, forgot it was supposed to be sulking, and leapt down to the bottom of the gorge, then hid somewhere.

I sighed and looked for a way down. It took a surprisingly short amount of time to find a conveniently placed steep path between the huge cliff walls that made up the gorge, too narrow for anyone but me to travel down. I slowly followed the path obviously custom made for me by the gods. I wasn't about to trip, but the Night Fury might jump out unexpectedly and startle me into falling down and cracking my neck against the ground in a horrifyingly ignoble death. I would have brought a shield if I'd thought it would make a difference, but I'd seen how easily a Gronckle dealt with our shields in dragon training, and Night Furies were the quickest dragons I'd seen. Deadly Nadders, the second quickest, didn't even come close.

I reached the bottom of the gorge without incident and held the enormous fish (I'd pointedly told the storehouse guards that of _course_ it was the one I wanted. I wasn't _that_ small.) but the dragon didn't appear. Maybe it was angry at being trapped in a gorge. I could sympathize. Still, the place didn't look half bad. Even came with its own outdoor pool. I slowly walked forwards into the middle of the place, the better to get a view of the area.

Without warning, I was pounced on by nearly two tons of dragon. It felt horribly like a mugging, and even more so when the dragon ignored the giant fish on my chest in favour of nosing in my pockets.

"I… I don't have any money!" I said. "Seriously!" The dragon snorted and ignored me. Then it let out a triumphant mini-roar, ripped half my tunic off, and threw it in the lake. It leapt off me, still taking no interest in the fish, and let out a plasma blast that completely incinerated the half of my tunic in the lake. I shrugged off the other, now useless, half.

Dragons. They made even less sense than the twins.

When it was satisfied that the evil tunic half was well and truly dead it turned back to me and… purred, like a cat.

Unnerved, I immediately handed the fish to the dragon. Was this the demon finally showing itself?

The dragon, unconcerned with my thoughts, took and ate the fish whole. I stepped back, relieved, only to see it eyeing me with a newly wary eye. I froze. Again. It seemed to reach a decision. I wish I'd written a will. I'd really wanted to at least have the twins burn down a few more of my neighbours' houses if I was going to die before I could plot some really good revenge.

The dragon interrupted my thoughts by throwing up half the fish onto my lap.

My apprehension immediately changed to annoyance. "It's not poison! If you're sharing, thanks and all, but I need it cooked."

The Night Fury spit out a sustained blue flame at the fish, charring it black, and causing me to drop the now steaming fish. I picked it back up gingerly, wanting to do anything but eat it.

"I need salt, too," I said.

The dragon dragged the fish out of my hands and doused it in the lake, then gave it back. "Is that really a salt-water lake?"

The dragon gave me a sage nod.

"I'm still not eating… this," I said, holding the charred, wet mass at arms length.

The dragon bared its… toothless gums at me.

"Right, still not eating it, mister _T_ _oothless_. You're going to have to try harder to scare me."

The dragon pondered this. Then it started peeling its lips back from its gums, obviously attempting to fix its jaws in a terrifying grin. It only managed to look like it was smiling.

"Still toothless. Also, looks funny," I said, giving the grinning dragon a flat stare. Even my _dad_ wouldn't be able to force me to eat…

The dragon unsheathed its _extremely_ pointy teeth.

"Okay, I'm eating it, I'm eating it," I said hurriedly, and dug into the… thing. It was disgusting, but fear made it, well, not tasteless, but barely edible. "Still calling you Toothless, though," I mumbled in between bites.

The dragon growled.

"Nothing, nothing…"

§

Vikings were right. Dragons were sadistic demons, or at least Toothless the Night Fury was. Not even Gobber on his worst day had forced me to eat soaked, half charred, half raw, completely salty fish. Speaking of Gobber…

"Where were you today, lad? You were supposed to be at dragon training," Gobber said. I looked at my house longingly. There would be a fire there, and I wanted to get the lingering chill out of my bones.

"Well Gobber, you see, I was just—"

Gobber cut off my scrambled explanation with a chuckle, having finally noticed that I was completely soaked.

"The twins throw you in the well again, eh?" he said, an eyebrow raised.

This was my chance—I could blame my absence on the twins, getting away with missing dragon training and getting them in trouble for failing to cover for me in one fell swoop. Only one thing stopped me.

I couldn't have everyone thinking the twins had thrown me into the well. That would be well below my dignity.

"No," I said, formulating a brilliant story for my appearance. "I bravely saved a fishing boat from capsizing due to a Scauldron attack."

Gobber sighed.

"Ruffnut was wearing a mask of your face, lad. Now, I know you're afraid of the dragons, but if you don't train, one of the beasties will getcha soon enough. Just look at my leg!" Gobber wiggled his peg leg at me. "And my arm!" More wiggling.

A mask of my face? I knew from experience how bad their painting skills were. Forget about owing them any favours, _they_ were going to owe _me_ ,and big ones, too.

Gobber didn't punish me this time, just left me at my house with this big frown. I was going to pay for skipping tomorrow, I was certain. He'd also no doubt left a note for Stoick about my 'behaviour'. Oh well, couldn't dwell on the past. I needed a plan to control the dragon. I had a feeling waving a staff above my head and roaring wouldn't do the trick. Brute force wasn't an option, and I couldn't threaten it or I'd get roasted and eaten in short order. I could still threaten to lead other Vikings to it, but I wouldn't be able to follow through, since I'd get none of the credit for the kill. They'd probably believe that it was just a random dragon they hadn't heard of before too, instead of a Night Fury. Surprisingly few Vikings actually read the Dragon Manual. Hmm. Maybe I could befriend it with a nice cage.[26] Unfortunately, after a few minutes of consideration, I decided Night Furies weren't small enough for me to fit in even the largest cage that I was able to carry, so I'd have to earn its trust some other way. I supposed I could try to fix its wing…

§

I'd finally wrestled the old, makeshift splint off of its wing, but after that it wouldn't stop flapping, no matter that the wing was still obviously unhealed.

"Hold _still_ you big galumphing—Agh, no get off…" I protested as the dragon bowled me over and trapped me beneath his head. He seemed to think my chest was as comfortable as a pillow and contentedly purred at me as I struggled futilely beneath his massive weight.

"I'm just going to fix your wing, alright! Nothing else. Nothing. But you have to—" The dragon growled. "You're toothless again."

He unsheathed his teeth uncomfortably close to me.

I changed tacks. "You have to keep the wing from moving until the new splint is on, or you'll never fly again."

In response, Toothless promptly hooked a claw on the enormous leather and metal contraption I'd spent most of my now secretive forge time working on and flung it disdainfully into the lake, then flamed it. _Did you really think I'd fall for that?_ he seemed to be asking. I said I did. He threw me into the lake, thankfully without flaming me. I glared out, dripping wet.

This was _not_ how a fake friendship was supposed to work. I was supposed do things for the Night Fury until he owed me too many favours to pay them off, then magnanimously dismiss them all in favour of a grand friendship. From then on Toothless would scramble to do my bidding, in the name of friendship, of course. Unfortunately, it wasn't working out quite how I'd planned. For one thing, Toothless never cared about any favours I tried to call in. For another, it was pre-emptively stopping most of the non-food favours from happening in the first place, and it was almost impossible to build a friendship on food. I say almost, because Tuffnut somehow formed an everlasting friendship with a Terrible Terror once. The two terrorized Berk for days while Ruffnut sulked until a peeved Viking beheaded the Terror. Tuffnut swore revenge.[27]

"I'll work on you tomorrow. Meanwhile, get me out of here," I said.

Toothless appeared to consider it. Then he bounded away.

"Okay, fine, I'm sorry! Please get me out!" I shouted. I'd been thrown in the exact middle of the lake, probably on purpose, and it was _cold_.

Toothless ignored me. I considered how one would take revenge on a dragon, but a few minutes later he came charging back, holding… an uprooted tree, which he then threw into the lake for me to cling on to, unknowingly saving himself from being one of the top ten on my revenge list. I grabbed the tree and he pulled me, wet and shivering, out of the water. Well, I never said dragons weren't smart. Or maybe I did. Hard to recall things like that. This one at least was smart, which was good as I couldn't have just any dragon as a fake friend.

"Can you make a fire?" I tried. If he was willing to save me from drowning, there was no limit to what he would do. Well, theoretically anyway. I'd have to ask Fishlegs about that. He was the science-y one; I was too much of a genius to need science when I built stuff or hatched elaborate plots that nearly always almost worked.

Toothless gave me a good scorching glare, which I guess qualified, and stalked off to be alone again. I followed him, twisting my clothes to get some of the moisture out of them. I soon gave it up as a hopeless task. No matter how much water I shed I was still hopelessly wet. Maybe Toothless had cast a Night Fury spell that made its victims, once wet, never able to dry off again.

Toothless leapt up into a hole in the side of the cliff. A few moments later the blue-purple flash of light that meant Toothless was making a fire was visible from his cave, although it was too high for me to actually see what was going on. I tried jumping, but I wasn't my dad, so it made no difference. Toothless, probably having heard me, poked his head out of his snug little cave and peered down at me with a self-satisfied expression.

"Seriously!" I shouted. Toothless dropped his head and closed his eyes, though one eye was a little too strained to be entirely closed. So that's how it was. I strode away, trying to act like his immature antics didn't bother me in the least. An amused purr sounded from behind me. I supposed I should stop stomping quite so loudly, and maybe stopper up my ears. I was pretty sure they were steaming.

§

The next day's training finished without a hitch for everyone except me. Everyone else showed off as Gothi surveyed Berk's newest batch of dragon fighters in training, while I just tried to stay out of everyone's way, especially Astrid's. She got all up in my face near the end of training just to ask which side I was on; the dragons, or the Vikings. It was a stupid tactic, but, since Astrid was using it, somehow succeeded. It would've made anyone else feel horribly ashamed. Unfortunately for her, her tirade only made me consider finding a dragon who'd drop me off on some remote deserted island. At least dragons didn't nag. Sure, I hurt plenty of Vikings with my inventions, but Astrid didn't seem to care that it wasn't usually on purpose. She took it the wrong way when I attempted to explain the situation, and all I got was a bruised shoulder for my troubles.

After training, I took another trip to the storehouses for Toothless's daily fish. The guards didn't even talk to me this time, just eyed me with bad humour. In fact, one or two looked positively vengeful. Maybe I shouldn't have 'forgotten' to salt a few fish, and then stored them where their smell would be certain to circulate throughout the village.

I took the fish and strode along through the forest, whistling and hauling it along with me, ready for another gruelling session of Toothless training. I stopped to catch my breath when I was around halfway to the gorge. A conveniently flat rock held my burden while I panted. Er, planned. After a few minutes of 'planning' I went to pick up the slimy… well, it didn't exactly deserve to be called a fish anymore. The heat had caused it start rotting, and now it was all gooey. I gingerly held it at arm's length, vowing to never visit the sometimes-toothless Night Fury on days this hot, then marched grimly towards the gorge.

I hadn't moved more than ten steps when Astrid jumped out from behind a nearby tree, yelling, "Aha!" at the top of her lungs.

* * *

1\. Notable accidents included a levelled house, a misfire that resulted in Gobber losing his peg-leg, and, worst of all, a particularly infuriating incident where the twins decided to paint my face on the ammunition.

2\. They were also shouting and throwing things, but again, I am a genius, so it was a trivial matter to ignore (or at least dodge) them.

3\. Dragons were confusing. They acted like targets, but returned fire. Seriously, they needed to make up their minds.

4\. Well, it wasn't _quite_ that simple. I did have to dodge Gobber's attempt to hoist me back, and everyone waiting in line who just couldn't let go of a grudge.

5\. For example, when I'd finished a new invention that wasn't exactly meant for the most _ethical_ purposes (sheep catapulting comes to mind) and, having constructed the thing right under Gobber's nose without his knowledge, get caught because my dad comes by right as I'm revealing it to the twins.

6\. Instead I just did whatever I felt like. It was a sound system—Gobber would tell me to do something, I'd do my own thing, Gobber would complain, I'd use whatever I made to make people tolerate me until they got tired of the destruction that I inevitably caused (in the name of… something. I was too busy running to think of something clever.) and then the cycle would repeat.

7\. He used to _try_ to stop me, but then I'd just hit him with a concealed dart, usually dosed with dangerous amounts of paralysing dragon venom. A side effect of always carrying said darts around used to be accidentally paralysing myself, until inspiration struck and I tried creating a belt with a special pouch for holding them upright, allowing me to grasp them by the ends. Now he thought I had demon magic. I, of course, never argued with anything that made me seem more powerful.

8\. Even Ruffnut didn't like her hair set on fire, shocked, cut unevenly, drenched in mud, or sprinkled with dragon venom. Especially after said venom stuck her in place for several hours, leaving Tuffnut plenty of time to play his own pranks. He wound up touching her hair when trying to make her look like a troll, resulting in the formation of an odd sort of statue that lasted until the venom wore off.

9\. See what I mean? It was probably the very same bolt that I hadn't bothered to secure earlier, but instead of popping out at a more convenient time, it decided to launch itself at me, lose itself in the grass, and distract me from seeing where the Night Fury landed. My luck was _very_ specific.

10\. Various legends featured Vikings being stolen in raids and replaced by shape-shifting dragons. Stupid, but then Vikings generally were.

11\. Slaying, they called it. It was more like dragon herding. Actually killing a dragon caused the rest to go into a frenzy and raze a good portion of the village, so killing dragons was a no-no, unless it was alone, in which case it was fair game.

12\. I admire Cinder the Charred as much as anyone, but all the same, I was not particularly eager to get my—admittedly not prize winning, it was too beautiful to win the ugly contests—face burnt to a crisp.

13\. Interpret as: act as my meat-shield.

14\. This was everyone's cue to start cheering. Unfortunately, they were otherwise engaged, mostly in chasing futilely after the escaped Deadly Nadders, who all seemed to think it was some kind of game. I even thought I saw one stick a tongue out at a Viking who had leapt just a _little_ too slowly.

15\. Not whined, of course. That would be degrading.

16\. And don't get me started on _non_ -traditional weapons. They were either regarded as demonic devices that would get everyone killed, or cheating. _Cheating._ I ask you!

17\. Even if the dragon was sleeping to scout out the area, it was still a pretty stupid move. It's impossible to tell what's happening to your sleeping body if its out of your sight. Sure, you'll wake up, but not before you're bound in ropes and forced to tell Astrid everything you know… speaking theoretically, of course.

18\. Although it would be interesting to see its lights. I wished I could see them when I was awake too. When animals or people sleep, all the blue circles go to the head. The ability to see when anyone is sleeping is _very_ useful, for… various reasons.

19\. In fact, only Astrid came close to matching me at sniff detecting, mostly because she was the one Snotlout was always sniffing. I, however, greatly outperformed her, since I had to regularly deal with things that regarded me as food, such as the giant rats that always waited for just one unguarded moment. Unfortunately for them, I was quite proficient in using the venom coated darts, and aimed by their sniffing.

20\. Or Book of Dragons, but DM was a cooler acronym than BoD (and for some reason saying BoD aloud triggered sniggers from Snoutlout and the twins and a punch from Astrid), so that's what I called it. Not that most Vikings even know what an acronym is, but trader Johann always brings a ton of books that he sells at dirt cheap prices with all sorts of interesting stuff, of which grammar is one, and Established Dragon Warfare was another. I was waiting for them to properly acknowledge _I_ existed before telling anyone of _its_ existence, but the way things were going I doubted that would happen until Hel froze over. Probably not even then. Vikings were _stubborn_.

21\. Unfortunately, in a misguided attempt to help, Gobber probably would've crippled me for life. He tended to treat all injuries as if they were the same—namely, life threatening—and remove the limb with said injury. Then there was Snotloud, who'd love to have a chance at revenge.

22.I knew this because when I asked if that meant yes, it roared at me. Loudly. My ears still hadn't entirely recovered from the last time.

23\. The twin's passwords were easy enough to figure out. They always had something to do with what had happened during the day that they thought was 'unfair'.

24\. What bothered me is that whenever we'd captured a dragon, they'd start keening and look persistently in the same direction no matter where they were pointed for a few days, and _no one_ had thought that just maybe the dragon was trying to get back to its nest, and they should just chain it to a ship or something and let it guide them to it. I'd decided I'd tell everyone at the same time I'd give them the book. It was quite an interesting book, talking all about how the only reason dragons hadn't gone extinct yet was that a few isolated colonies lived near and raided a few incompetent backwards villages. It could've been describing Berk by name.

25\. I couldn't find it while I was dreaming, since there was a limit to how far from my body I could travel, as I'd found out while trying to follow Trader Johann when he sailed away from Berk in the middle of the night. Hitting the distance limit was the only sure-fire way of waking myself up while dreaming, but it was unpleasant enough that from then on I'd constrained myself to snooping around in the village.

26\. There were old tales in which Vikings would catch fireworms in little cages and they'd provide free light and warmth, unless they were treated badly, in which case they'd destroy everything in a five-mile radius. If that isn't friendship, I don't know what is.

27\. Then I reminded him that Hoark the Haggard was already on _my_ revenge list, so he'd have to wait until I was through with him before he could perform his own revenge. Even plotting revenge would entitle me to royalties, according to standard archipelago revenge law. I didn't know what I'd take for royalties though, as the twins had never made or (surprisingly) even stolen any money in their lives. Maybe I'd ask for a yak.

* * *

 **Mjus has beta read this chapter for months now. She has carefully edited every sentence over and over again, and the result is a piece hundreds of times better than it would have been otherwise. _Massive_ thanks and credit go to her. If you liked this piece, go check out her stories!**


End file.
